


The Conversation

by levitatethis



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 12:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levitatethis/pseuds/levitatethis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mohinder is having breakfast at a NYC diner when Sylar surprises him; tense conversation follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Conversation

_And now my bitter hands cradle broken glass   
Of what was everything?   
All the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything_   
**-Pearl Jam, _“Black”_**

He sits in a random New York City diner. The breakfast in front of him remains untouched as he reads the book resting on the side of the table. The noise of the diner: people talking, music playing, the kitchen in a mad morning rush, is all filtered out by him like white noise.

He is so immersed in the book he is reading that he does not notice the man approaching his table. It is not until the seat across from him is pulled out and filled with the presence of a familiar body that Mohinder is finally distracted from his book.

“I see you were waiting for me before you got started,” Sylar says with a smile as he eyes the untouched breakfast in front of Mohinder. “You didn’t need to do that, but it’s very thoughtful of you.”

Mohinder sighs with a trace of annoyance.

“Is this going to be a regular thing?” he asks but he knows the question is rhetorical. This is at least the eleventh time in as many weeks where Sylar has shown up at whatever diner or coffee shop Mohinder is in.

“Well that’s not happiness to see me,” says Sylar pretending to be upset. “I’ll have whatever he’s having,” he says to the waitress approaching the table before she even has the chance to open her mouth.

“Oh, I’m thrilled to see you,” is the sarcastic answer Mohinder offers him. “In fact my day is not complete until you’ve shown up to remind me that everything is right with the world.”

Sylar smirks but there is definite irritation beneath the surface.

“You know Mohinder, you might want to show some appreciation--,” he begins before Mohinder cuts him off.

“Appreciation for what?” Mohinder asks incredulously. “What exactly have you done that I should be thankful for?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know!” Sylar nearly booms, drawing attention from some of the nearby tables. He lowers his voice but the force behind the words is clear as day. “It may have been against my will but I did help. ”

He steadily holds Mohinder’s gaze across the table until Mohinder lowers his eyes. With a hesitation in his voice Mohinder sighs, looks back at him and quietly asks, “What do you want?”

The sternness in Sylar’s face vanishes and is replaced by a smile as he says, “That’s better. I have some information you’ll find most fascinating. But I have a favour to ask first. I’m looking for someone–,”

But before he can continue Mohinder, with a what-the-fuck look on his face, leans forward and interrupts, “Excuse me, but when did you and I become covert operatives exchanging information? When exactly did we become partners?”

Sylar silently watches Mohinder as his blood starts to boil with being interrupted by the man across from him being so stubbornly resistant. He has to admit that some of his favourite moments are when Mohinder is so resistant. Those are right up there with the (rare) moments when Mohinder is not resistant at all. But those haven’t occurred in a very long time so he has learned to make due with these ones.

“I’m not helping you find anyone,” Mohinder states defiantly.

Sylar snaps.

“Hey! I just need a name; one I know you have on your damn list. It’s not like I need Molly to track him down!”

As soon as her name crosses his lips he knows it is too late to take it back. As much as he takes pleasure in the, sometimes, hurtful banter with Mohinder, it is part of their charm he thinks, he knows that Molly is off limits. No matter how many times he has tried to explain to Mohinder that Molly was already dead when he found her it means nothing. His innocence in her death is negated by the fact that he still took her power when he found her body.

In Mohinder’s eyes it was a desecration. In Sylar’s eyes it would have been a waste and a loss to let her power die with her.

When it came to Molly’s death they seemed to have switched roles. Mohinder, the scientist, was all emotions. Sylar, who had sprung to life from a religiously brought up boy, was all rational thinking. It was as if Molly’s death threw them into a topsy-turvy spiral from which they were still recovering.

At the sound of her name Mohinder sharply sucks in his breath.

_Shit_, Sylar thinks to himself because Mohinder now looks pissed.

“I’m sorry Mohinder. I didn’t mean to bring her up,” Sylar attempts in a bid to stop their meeting from completely derailing.

But Mohinder is hearing none of it.

“Of course you’re sorry,” Mohinder mutters before raising his voice slightly. “Everything you do, everything you say, every person you hurt is on purpose. What makes…this any different? Do me a favour, take your fascinating information and go fuck yourself with it. ”

Mohinder hopes he sounds forceful enough, believable enough, even though a part of him desperately wants to know what information Sylar has brought for him.

Sylar is quick with his response.

“Watch it!” he begins. “I seem to recall kicking your ass all over your apartment. How quickly you forget about being stuck to your ceiling?”

Immediately Mohinder throws it right back to him.

“And I seem to recall drugging, torturing and experimenting on you. Add in the bullet to the head and, oh, let’s not forget about me knocking you unconscious. But hey, who’s keeping score?”

“I’m sure that would make Dale feel better,” Sylar says simply. “And Isaac and…how many names was that in total you led me to?”

Mohinder’s fighting stance deflates slightly.

_Game. Set. Match._

“Now that we’ve gotten the pleasantries out of the way can we focus on more important things?” Sylar asks. “I’m looking for a person who can manipulate liquids into solids. You have a corresponding name on your list that I need.”

Mohinder watches Sylar carefully before speaking.

“What would you want with that particular ability? Are you planning to turn water to ice? Or maybe reverse some of Zane’s metal work?”

Whenever Mohinder brings up Zane it is a sore reminder for both of them. There are times when both of them have invoked his name to get a point across.

Sylar thinks about how to respond to this. It is not a power he actively wants but it is one he needs to get; soon.

Mohinder reads this on Sylar’s face. He leans forwards and asks, “Who are you working for?”

Sylar, without blinking, says, “I’m not at liberty to say.”

“You’re not at liberty to say,” repeats Mohinder. “Well that’s too bad because I think we’re at a bit of a stalemate,_ friend_.” He adds the last part with sarcasm.

It is moments like these when Sylar wants to throttle Mohinder. If Mohinder knew how much power he has in this moment over Sylar’s life, if he knew the consequences Sylar would face if he does not find this man maybe he would act differently. Truth be told, Mohinder is the only person in the world Sylar would, if he could, tell this secret to. But that it is neither here nor there. So Sylar plays the card he knows will keep Mohinder in line.

“How’s Nathan doing? What a mess. You’ve been checking up on him lately,” says Sylar as he sits back in his chair. “I’m going to take that to go,” he says over his shoulder at the approaching waitress bringing his food. She rolls her eyes and turns around.

These are the moments when Mohinder would like to inflict as much pain as possible on Sylar. He hates how Sylar has all this information close to his chest and only hands it out in small portions. He guesses Sylar does this to keep him from dismissing, or outright trying to, kill him. Sometimes Mohinder wishes Sylar would just plainly state what the hell is going on.

“Well, you know when people actually lose someone they love there are actual emotions felt,” Mohinder begins.

For a split second Mohinder catches a hint of something in Sylar’s eye but the moment passes just as fast.

Mohinder continues, “And if you weren’t such a _monster _you might actually be able to wrap _your brain_ around that. Particularly since you _manipulated _into motion what happened to _Peter_.” Mohinder knows Sylar can appreciate the specific word choice he has used here.

Sylar grins. This is usually how fast it is for him to like Mohinder all over again.

“Ah yes, Peter--,” he begins with amusement in his voice.   
“Is dead,” Mohinder finishes seriously.

Sylar lets the seconds tick by for added effect.

“Peter _is_ dead…like me.”

_Well now that was unexpected_, Mohinder thinks to himself before the realization of what has been said hits him. He watches Sylar watching him. “Peter is alive?” he asks with shock, concern, confusion and hope all rolled up into one.

Sylar cringes inwardly. He hates the way Mohinder says Peter’s name with such emotion. Always has. He is tempted to tell Mohinder what Peter has been up to in an attempt to knock him down a few pegs in Mohinder’s eyes. But he keeps his mouth shut.

Mohinder notices the slight shift in Sylar’s face and body. He almost lets out a laugh. _Still so obtuse?_ Mohinder thinks to himself. Even after all this time Mohinder is surprised that Sylar does not understand why Peter is so important to him. Mohinder still feels protective of Peter after virtually dismissing him the first time they met. He has been overcompensating ever since. Mohinder is sure that Sylar either thinks there is more to it than that or is simply jealous of someone else meaning something of significance to him. Once upon a time that was his role. It would be an easy mistake to correct but Mohinder likes seeing Sylar out of sorts, especially since that rarely happened.

The moment does not last long.

Quickly collecting himself, Sylar slowly drawls out, “Now don’t you want to scratch my back?” with a sly smile.

_Yes, apparently I do_, Mohinder thinks but all he does is lightly nod his head.

“Tomorrow then; same time, same place?” asks Sylar as he begins to get up from the table.

Mohinder does not say no.

“Thanks for breakfast,” Sylar says once he’s up next to the table. Mohinder starts to protest but Sylar winks at him and continues, “I’ll get it tomorrow.”

Mohinder watches Sylar turn and being to walk away. He watches Sylar take his packed up breakfast from the waitress and then head towards the front door.

A rush of images runs through Mohinder’s mind. Sylar, Peter, the list, Molly. It is her face that he sees; that strikes a cord. Her face is the one that haunts him and reminds him of his own fallibility.

Suddenly he sees Sylar stop, hand on the front door. He watches Sylar turn around and look back at him. There is an expression on his face that Mohinder cannot quite read. Mohinder watches Sylar slowly begin to walk back towards him.

_What now?_ Mohinder thinks.

As Sylar gets close to the table he starts, “Mohinder--,”

But he is cut off, again, by Mohinder saying, “Unless I’m missing something it’s not tomorrow yet. In fact, unless you have the power to make me lose time, or transport us forward in time, I--.” Mohinder stops when he sees the serious expression on Sylar’s face.

Sylar sits back down in his chair. After a moment he finally says, “It didn’t have to be like this.”

It is both a question and a statement. Mohinder knows they are now speaking about something far deeper than their conversation from a few minutes before.

“Yes it did.” Mohinder finally answers. He hesitates before continuing with a hint of resignation in his voice. “Given everything; the unforgivable acts – we could never have been anything else.”

Sylar watches Mohinder and can see every hurt and every death that he carries with him like a penance. Sylar is aware that many of those are connected back to him whether by his own hands or the simple reminder of what he represents. The word unforgivable reverberates in his head.

And then, for reasons Mohinder cannot even begin to explain to himself – maybe it is the indefinable look in Sylar’s eyes that says nothing and everything all at once; maybe it is Mohinder’s inability to be completely callous – he tries to soften the blow.

“Maybe if I’d met Gabriel before my…Maybe if Zane had been real…But I can’t unremember the past.”

Mohinder lets their silence sit for a moment before firmly stating, “You can’t take back what you’ve done.”

For a moment it looks to Mohinder as if Sylar wants to say something else. This time he does not interrupt; instead he waits for it.

But Sylar bites his tongue, holding back the words that are attempting to break through. And all that the two men have is silence; which is not always a bad thing when it seems only the wrong words exist. Sylar looks around at all the other booths and tables filled with smiling, laughing people.

“Tomorrow then,” he says quietly with a quick glance and nod at Mohinder. He then reaches into his pant pocket and removes a five dollar bill which he places on the table. “For tip,” he says as he gets up again. This time when he gets to the front door he does not stop.

Mohinder watches him pass by the outside of the window as he heads on his way to wherever it is he has to go next. Looking back at his own plate of food he reaches towards it with his right hand and pushes it away.

It’s cold.   
 

**Author's Note:**

> Heroes Slash Awards  
> **Nominated for Best Mohinder/Sylar Fic (PG13)**
> 
> Mylar Fic Awards  
> **Nominated for Best Use of Dialogue**


End file.
